Customer Reviews

On a Bed of Rice

5 star:		(5)
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2 star:		(1)
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I give this book a nine, because it's an anthology and two of the stories were, frankly, terrible. But the rest of the stories were some of the most penetrating fiction I've read. One hilarious story deals with the myth that Asian American men have smaller penises; the author goes to great lengths to research and disprove that myth. Other stories deal with the way race and sex are intertwined in America. David Mura's story in particular, about a white woman who was once his girlfriend writes to him after seeing "The Lover," is particularly poignant. Asian American men, especially, will enjoy the book, since we are always absent from and desexualized in the white media. This book gives amore real view of who we are, who we are screwing...and why.

Growing up asian and female, everything was made to seem taboo, that sex and eroticism were dirty things. But this anthology is proof that they need not be. There is something about the state of nakedness that makes you feel both liberated and vulnerable. And when these qualities are infused and woven into words and images, everything together is just that much more powerful. The stories ranged from haunting to humourous to just plain honest. I come back to the book again and again as some stories really hit home and others take on new meaning when read again with new eyes. There is something here for everyone with an open mind regardless of race.

On a Bed of Rice is an excellent anthology. The subtlety of the sexuality left the reader with images that remain for a long time. Read the poem "Handbook of Sex of a Plain Girl" it is beautiful. My copy was lost and I miss it terribly. If this book pleases you, read "Pleasure in the Word" Erotic Writings from Latin American Women similiar to this but the imagery is different based on the difference in culture. I plan on buying a new copy of On a Bed of Rice because I feel lost without it.

This book is not only full of well crafted literature, but it presents an unbiased collection of perspectives for anyone interested in the cultural constraints of the asian cultural influence over asian americans and their sexuality. Each piece depicts a new mindset, a newly created experience, and a different approach to the the Asian/American conflict.. Excellent collection.

Impressive, beautiful, moving, and complete. This book speaks for itself.

How much longer are the intellectual elite going to keep harping on the West with words like "hegemony" and "colonialism?" Or recycle the cliches about the West being male-centered, rapacious, domineering, etc.? The irony of it all is that Western culture is the only one that seems to a) have this degree of self-reflection; b) measure itself so self-consciously against other cultures; and now, thanks to pointy headed post modern academics, c) have adolescent self doubts about its own worth. I hardly need to mention examples of "brutal hegemony" or "male-centeredness" that color Asian history. As if all those warlords and emperors sat around drinking chai and doing everything their concubines told them to do! Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the symbol in Chinese for "China" mean "center of the world?" That's rather ethnocentric, don't you think?

In any case, tiresome as the politics of this book may be, the stories themselves do little to keep the reader awake. It reads much like a stack of assignments from a creative writing class, rather than, well, creative writing. One almost suspects they all partook of the same textbook on writing. It comes out feeling rather narrow-viewed, selfish, and without a whole lot to say about anything beyond the narrator's own experience. Which is to say, it adds little to the reader's understanding of nature, the universe, and his place in it.

Indeed the stories are so self-absorbed in their Asianness, and in their often peculiar concepts of sexuality, that the enterprise of expressing these very perspectives falls flat on its face. "I'm Asian!" or "I'm gay!!!" the story or poem screams. So what? Navel-gazing never got anyone anywhere - not the reader, and certainly not the writer.